Tennyson talks of "gay quinquenniads." Yes, But he would mention them with less elation If he had my experience, I guess, Of the _not_ gay Quinquennial Valuation! I am not now so young as once I was, I have arrived at the Golosh and Gamp Age, I am not equal to contend--that's poz-- With the Parochial Fathers on the rampage. Ah me, these Vestry vultures on the pounce! They scare me, skin me, bully me, and bilk me. Soon of my flesh they'll scarce have left an ounce, They so persistently maul, mulct, and milk me. Once in five years they send me papers blue, And papers white, and likewise papers yellow; They "want to know, you know," indeed they do. First the "First Clerk," a devil of a fellow! Challenges me to up and tell him all About gross value, also value rateable. It's all pure fudge. I am their helpless thrall, To an extent in civil speech unstateable. They will not take _my_ word. If I appeal, They hale me up before a stern Committee, Fellows with brazen faces, hearts of steel, And destitute of manners as of pity. My solemn statement, or my mild demur, To them a subject of fierce scorn and scoff is; An honest citizen feels but a cur When snapped and snarled at by these Jacks-in-Office. They're sure to have the pull of me somehow; Oh! I've read "Handbooks." I've attended Meetings Where angry ratepayers raise fruitless row; But, bless you, these bold roarings turn to bleatings, When they the cruel inquisition face Of some austere Committee of Assessment. Until I found myself in that dread place I never knew what fogged and foiled distress meant. Between them and my Landlord I've no peace. I'm honest, but they treat me as "a wrong one." I'm a Shopkeeper, holding a short lease (My Landlord takes good care it's not a long one). Once in seven years the Landlord lifts my Rent, And once in five my Rates the Assessor raises, Values, Gross, Rateable, so much per cent.? Bah! the attempt to fathom them but crazes! The only regular rule is--Up! Up! Up! And any protest only brings upon you Your Landlord's wrath, and cheek from some sleek pup, Who bullies you; and laughs when he has done you. "Pay and look pleasant," is the official rule, And as to wife and child, and food and raiment, You _may_ attend to them, poor drudging fool! When of your Rent and Rates you've made full payment. Yes, Rent and Rates! they are the modern gods, And Moloch's tyranny was not more cruel. With Landlord or with Vestry get at odds, And you're gone coon; they'll soon give you your gruel. Just now Vestrydom's victims are a-howl With rage at skinning; but their indignation Will fade, and they will feed the Official Ghoul Until the next Quinquennial Valuation. And then--well, Lord knows what may happen _then_, Unless--unless--and that is most improbable--